They went through a storeroom and into another room. As the aroma of food filled the place, Jolene tried to take in the whole residence with one glance, but it was impossible. Sunshine flowed from a skylight into a small living room that could have been featured in Southern Living. The smell of beans and bacon wafted in from the galley kitchen off to one side. A doorway opened up into a bedroom that showed off a bright floral comforter on a queen-size bed.
“Oh, my, this is beautiful,” Jolene said.
“It used to be a big empty space, but Bruce and I turned it into an apartment. Made sense since we were here so much of the time. It was safer than driving all the way to Tyler at that time of morning, plus it saved gas and time. I’ve got the traditional meal—black-eyed peas cooked up with lots of bacon, greens with bacon, steamed cabbage, plus some sliced tomatoes and corn bread. Lucy and Flossie were supposed to be here, but they both have a hangover. Poor things never have been able to hold their liquor.” She set the table for two as she talked.
“What can I do to help?” Jolene asked.
“Pour us a couple of glasses of sweet tea. It’s in the fridge. Ice cubes are in the bowl in the freezer,” Dotty said.
“How did you get from Louisiana to here? Sugar said that you were young when you moved here, but you’ve kept that accent,” Jolene asked.
“My mama was Cajun, and that’s the language I heard at home. Guess it stuck,” Dotty answered. “I worked in an insurance agency for years, and Bruce was a loan officer at a bank. We knew figures and all that when we decided to run this place.”
“Regrets?” Jolene asked.
“Not a single one. Let’s dig in.” She sat down, filled her plate, and picked up the Tabasco sauce. “I like a little kick in my peas.”
Jolene reached for it when she finished. “It’s the Cajun in us. We might not have put personal roots down in southern Louisiana, but that’s where our heritage is.”
“You got that right.” Dotty smiled. “So how come you haven’t married? Your aunt Sugar wants grandbabies. I told her that they’d actually be her great-nieces and nephews, but she wasn’t havin’ none of that talk.”
“Came close,” Jolene said. “But then I found his evil streak.”
Dotty’s eyes turned to slits. “Did some bastard lay a hand on you?”
“No, but he stole my debit card, cleaned out my bank account, and left with the few pieces of good jewelry that had belonged to my mother. His name was Johnny Ray and he was an alcoholic. You’d think I’d learn a lesson from having to deal with Mama, but he was tall, dark, and handsome, and he was a charmer.” Jolene flashed back to the first time she’d met Johnny Ray. His sexy blue eyes had looked across the bar at her as if she were the only woman in the whole place. By the time they’d had their last argument over his drinking, those same blue eyes had been shooting daggers at her. She shook the memories from her head and smiled at Dotty. “This is so good. It reminds me of going to visit my dad’s folks down around Lafayette. Thanks for inviting me.”
Dotty raised her glass. “To love and prosperity in the new year.”
Jolene clinked glasses. “I’ll settle for prosperity. I make bad choices when it comes to that love stuff.”
“Oh, come on now. Don’t judge all men by one rotten apple. And besides, you know the Magnolia has magic hidden in the walls. Sugar always told us that, and I believe her,” Dotty scolded. “Tell me, though, after all that you went through, didn’t you ever think about a therapist? I saw one after Bruce died.”
“I did see a real one a couple of times after Mama died. Just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was too soon or maybe it wasn’t soon enough. Went to a few of those Al-Anon meetings for kids a few times, too. I don’t know, Dotty. But I know one thing—it’ll take magic and miracles both for me to ever let another man into my heart,” Jolene said.
“Well, the future is what it is, and we can’t change it any more than we can change the past,” Dotty said.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Dotty said, “I wonder how far Sugar and Jasper got today.”
Jolene nodded. “They were hoping to get about halfway down Louisiana. I bet Aunt Sugar is making peas and greens, though.”
“You can count on it. We old southern women do things right.” Dotty handed a plate of corn bread across the table. “You better have another piece to go with a second helping of black-eyed peas for good luck.”
“I sure will—this is really good, Dotty. I appreciate the friendship, the food, and the job. After that meeting with Reuben, I needed all of it.”
“Oh, honey, that’s what friends are for—to share in the joys and half the sorrows.” Dotty smiled.
“That mean you aren’t going to throw salt in the shape of a cross when I leave?” Jolene asked.
Dotty laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. “That’s a Cajun superstition for sure—I wish it would keep certain people away from my house. Are you going to get out the salt for Reuben when you get home?”
“Yep, but according to him, he will never set foot in Jefferson again,” Jolene said.
“Well, there, chère, is your first miracle, now isn’t it?” Dotty said.
It was the middle of the afternoon when Jolene left. After lunch, Dotty had shown her all the basics of the bar. The primary difference between the Tipsy Gator and the Twisted Rope was the location of the liquor bottles. At the Twisted Rope, Jolene could reach for the whiskey, the tequila, or the gin blindfolded. It would take a few weeks at the Tipsy Gator to get that familiar with things.
Five miles south of town, she turned left, inched down the lane to the big Victorian-looking inn set back in the tall pines, and parked the truck among them. She plopped down on the porch swing and set it in motion with her foot. How would it work if someone bought a half interest in the place? Would they want to live there, or would they just be a silent partner?
Lake Pontchartrain, Louisiana
Sugar clapped her hands when they spotted an RV place right close to the lake that first day of their journey. She loved being near the water, and Jasper couldn’t wait to get his fishing equipment out and see if the fish were biting.
“Before you do that, let’s call Reuben and Jolene.” Sugar touched her phone screen and brought up the contacts, hit Reuben’s name, and handed it off to Jasper. “You can go first.”
“Hello,” Reuben said over the speaker.
“Guess where we are!” Jasper’s voice sounded like a little boy’s at Christmas.
“Who is this?” Reuben sounded irritated, maybe even angry.
“It’s your uncle Jasper,” Sugar said. “We’ve started our trip. We’re camped right by Lake Pontchartrain. Have you and Jolene gotten reacquainted? She said y’all were meeting today.”
“We met,” Reuben said.
“And?” Jasper winked at Sugar.
“I listed my half with a Realtor. I hated that place when I was a kid. Why would I ever want to live there? I’ll use that money to take my colleagues on a cruise over spring break, and what’s left to buy a new car. So I guess I owe you thanks for that.” Reuben’s tone had changed from angry to sarcastic.
“I’d hoped that . . .” Jasper looked like he might burst into tears.
“You gave it to me with no strings. I did what I wanted with it,” Reuben said. “I really have to go now. I’ve got plans for this evening. And if some idiot comes along who wants to buy half interest in a money pit, then I’ll thank you again for a nice vacation and a new car. Goodbye.”
The phone screen went dark.
The RV went silent.
Sugar moved closer to Jasper and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, darlin’.”
“I should’ve given my half to Jolene. I just wanted to believe that this would . . .” Tears began to roll down his cheeks.
Sugar’s tears mixed with his, because she never could let anyone cry alone. “Let’s go fishin’ together to take our minds off this. I’ll call Jolene another time. She�
�s probably too hoppin’ mad to talk right now anyway.”
“I love you.” Jasper held her tightly. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You were.” Sugar pushed away from him. “You did nothing wrong. You followed your heart. Who knows how all this will turn out? We’re hurting today, but maybe tomorrow we’ll look back on this and see that it was all for the good.”
“I hope so.” Jasper wiped at his cheeks.
Chapter Three
Tucker Malone had just polished off his third beer and was reaching for another when his cell phone rang. He checked the ID, saw that it was Belinda, and ignored it. He wasn’t ready to start another job for a few days. He wanted to hole up in his tiny trailer, drink a few beers, eat bologna sandwiches, and watch old reruns on television with Sassy beside him. When he got ready to work, he’d call her.
This was a holiday, by damn, and he deserved a little time off. He looked around at the tiny travel trailer and imagined Melanie in the kitchen, like she had been that last night they were together. They’d spent every weekend they could get out of the big city camping out at the lake—doing some fishing, having a few beers, and planning their future.
He blinked back the tears. He’d lost her, all over a quart of milk. She’d needed it for breakfast the next morning and insisted on driving into town while he fished for their supper. After the auto accident that killed her, he drowned his grief in a bottle.
The weekend drinking had turned daily and cost him his job. That’s when he’d gone to the cemetery and promised Melanie he’d only drink on Friday and Saturday nights. The next day he’d brought the trailer from Dallas to Marshall, Texas, the area where she’d grown up, where her parents and two brothers still lived, and where she was buried. He’d thought that living close to where she was raised would help.
It didn’t.
But her old school friend, Belinda, a Realtor, had kept him in enough remodeling jobs to buy beer, bologna, and cat food. The trailer had looked like hammered owl shit when he and Melanie had bought it, and it still did. The rust spots had spread in two years, and he’d never bothered to underpin it, but it was big enough for him and Sassy, and it kept the rain off. As long as he could come home to Melanie’s picture every evening, he didn’t care what the trailer looked like.
He carried his go-bag and a beer over to the RV park bathroom and shivered through a barely warm shower. They’d camped out in the trailer and skinny-dipped in lakes and rivers that were colder than this, but he’d had her warm body next to him in those days. He quickly dried off, got dressed in a pair of old Dallas PD sweats, and jogged from the brick building back to his trailer. Once inside, he pushed Sassy out of the way and dived under a blanket on the sofa.
“Dammit! I left my beer over in the bathroom. Sassy, darlin’, be a good girl and go get it for me,” he said.
The cat gave him her best disgusted look and settled on the other end of the sofa.
“Worthless animal. I bet a dog would fetch my beer,” he fussed at her.
He went straight to the refrigerator, got out another bottle, and headed back to the sofa. He picked up his phone and called the nearest pizza place. It rang five times before he remembered that it was a holiday. He had his finger on the “End” button when someone said, “Pop’s Pizzeria.”
“Y’all open and delivering?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. This Tucker?”
“Yep. Will you send your delivery guy out here with my regular order?”
“Hand-tossed supreme with extra meat and cheese, and a container of marinara on the side, right?”
“You got it,” Tucker said.
He meant to turn off the phone when he finished his order, but he forgot. It rang again, and he checked the ID and laid it back down. Dixie Realty, Belinda’s business—it could wait.
He picked up the remote and found a John Wayne western on television. Ten minutes into the movie, as he was reciting the dialogue with the Duke, someone pounded on his door. He stumbled to the door with his wallet in hand, expecting to see the pizza delivery kid bringing his order.
“Dammit! What are you doing here?” he asked when he saw Belinda on the other side of the door.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in out of the cold?” she replied.
“What the hell do you want? Don’t you know when I don’t answer the phone that I don’t want to work? This is a holiday,” he answered.
She pushed her way past him. “I’m not happy that I had to drive out here—it’s a holiday for me, too.” She removed her scarf and hat. “Melanie was my best friend, and I know she’d hate to see you living like this. Why don’t you get out of this trailer and let me find you a decent apartment?”
“It keeps the wind and rain off, it reminds me of the good times Melanie and I had, and it beats paying rent. But come right in. Make yourself at home. Do the dishes while you’re here,” he said.
“I’m not your maid, although it looks like you could use one.” She tossed a dirty shirt off the sofa and sat down. “I’m here on business. I’ve got a really good business deal for you.”
He leaned against the refrigerator door and waited.
“Well?” she said.
“I’m listenin’.”
“Half interest in the Magnolia Inn is up for sale. It’s the place where Melanie and I—”
He threw up a hand. “I know that y’all had a senior tea there. She told me all about it. Why’s only half interest for sale?”
“Sugar and Jasper, the owners, left the place to her only niece, Jolene, and his only nephew, Reuben. Jolene wants to keep it. Reuben wants to sell. Reuben has authorized me to act on his behalf. You interested?”
“Are you kiddin’ me? Half ownership? No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t share. It hurts too bad when . . .” He let the sentence drop and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You should know that. I don’t usually even hire a helper when I do work on your houses. Besides, come on, Belinda—half ownership with a woman? Melanie would haunt me for sure.”
“It’s business, not love. I’ve been in the Magnolia Inn lots of times. There are two big bedrooms on the ground floor and six that Sugar and Jasper rented on the second level. You can choose your room, do some repairs, and make a nice profit every year. It’s a full-time job for you until spring. After you get the renovations done, you can come back, live back in this ratty trailer, and just rake in the money,” Belinda told him. “Or, if you want, you can stay on and help Jolene run the place.”
He raked his hand through his dark hair. “I don’t cook.”
“Surely Jolene does if she’s plannin’ to run a bed-and-breakfast,” Belinda said.
Tucker ran a hand down over his square jaw, which sported two days of dark growth. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’ve got another buyer who’d like to invest in the place, so you’ve got twenty-four hours,” Belinda said.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow. Call you at the office?”
“I’ll be there from nine to five.”
The noise of a car stopping too quick on gravel took his attention to the door. “I hear my pizza delivery kid. Want to stay? I’ve got an extra beer.”
Belinda glanced over at Melanie’s picture. “I’m serious, Tucker. She would want you to move on, and I can’t stay for pizza and beer. Ray and the kids are waiting for me to come home and make our traditional New Year’s supper. You better eat black-eyed peas and something green if you want yours to be prosperous.” She stood, crammed her hat onto her head, and wrapped her scarf around her neck. “This is a good deal for you, and it’ll get you out of this sorry excuse for a home. I hope you don’t let it pass you by.”
“I said I’d think about it,” Tucker answered.
Belinda pushed the door open and disappeared out into the cold night air. She and Melanie had been best friends since they were in the church nursery together, but they looked nothing alike. Melanie had been a tall, slim-built brunette with green eyes. Belinda—a s
hort dark-haired lady—had gained weight with every one of her three kids.
He picked up his deceased wife’s picture and ran a finger down the edge of her face. “Don’t listen to her, darlin’. We’ve got an understanding that she don’t know jack crap about.”
Someone rapped on the door. “Got a delivery for Tucker Malone.”
The kid handed him the pizza, and Tucker gave him a ten-dollar bill and a five. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.” The kid turned around and jogged back to his car.
Tucker set the pizza on the cabinet, and Sassy immediately opened her eyes. She jumped from the sofa arm to the cabinet and tried to open the box with her claws.
“Go get back on the sofa and we’ll share. There’s plenty,” he said.
The cat glared at him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll get your fancy plate down and cut up a piece in bite-size chunks.” He picked the black olives, onions, and peppers off her slice. “Peppers are green and olives aren’t too far from the color of black-eyed peas, so that takes care of the silly southern superstition, right?”
Sassy purred in agreement until he set the bone-china plate on her favorite place on the cabinet, and then she set about eating. He stacked up four slices of pizza on a paper plate for himself and got out a beer. He carried it to the sofa and watched the rest of the movie as he ate. When it ended, he stared at Melanie’s picture sitting on the tiny table at the end of the sofa.
“What should I do, darlin’? I’ve got all that insurance money, more than enough to buy half the Magnolia Inn and to remodel it. But it’s your money and I’m not sure you’d want me to use it to buy half interest in a place where a woman owns the other half. I remember how jealous you were. So tell me what to do. I can’t make this decision to spend the money from your death without a sign from you,” he said.
He laid his forehead in the palm of his calloused hand and shut his eyes. The distant roll of thunder brought him to full alert, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that was a sign from his beloved Melanie. Sassy hopped up on the sofa beside him, licked her paws, and curled up on her favorite throw pillow. Not a sign by any stretch of the word.
The Magnolia Inn Page 3